Welcome to the Brotherhood
by Cadet Deming
Summary: In the aftermath of X-Men: First Class, Magneto and Emma start to develop a relationship, if Sebastian Shaw's Sinister real boss doesn't destroy the X-Men and the Brotherhood first.  Suspense/Romance/Comedy/Action Erik/Emma and Mystique/Azazel
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to the Brotherhood**

**By Cadet Deming**

**I don't own the rights to the X-Men, Marvel and Fox Studios do so please don't sue. I work in litigation so you wouldn't want to anyhow. After a long fanfic writing break, I've been inspired by X-Men First Class, the best of the series (hopefully so far). The casting, writing, and special effects were great, with one exception: Emma Frost. So, I'm giving Emma's character more of her comic persona (and IQ Points). This takes place shortly after the events of First Class, in the early days of the Brotherhood. Rated T, Magneto/Emma, Please read and review (One Shot? Possibly More)**

Sebastian Shaw always expected Emma Frost to be the dumb blonde: Look pretty, follow his orders, never have an original thought of her own. It was rather ironic, since she had the mutant ability to read everyone else's minds, and even control them. Almost all of them.

She sauntered down a corridor of the Washington, DC branch of Shaw's Hellfire Club, filtering through the sounds of other people' thoughts and the clank of her knee-high go-go boots against the polished wood floor. One train of thought overpowered the rest:

_"I need a bigger army than this. I don't have even have enough bloody soldiers to fill a chessboard." _

Emma smiled, following Erik Lensherr's mind. When he spoke aloud, his accent sounded like a blend of English, German, and sometimes even an Irish Brogue. His thoughts were always touched by a Polish lilt.

She opened the door to his temporary quarters. He had staked out Sebastian's old bedroom, in all its borderline-tacky ostentatiousness. Emma calculated a quick mental inventory of all of the metal in the room, something she had never paid attention to before meeting Erik.

He sat in a chair, hunched over a gleaming metallic chessboard. Even bending over, his bearing commanded attention.

At the noise of her shoes he looked up. She read his memory of the click of Nazi stormtroopers from his childhood, ready to drag him away into Hell.

Erik grabbed the gladiator-style helmet he had stolen from Shaw that blocked telepaths and fitted it on his head. It made him look 10 years older and covered his not exactly unattractive features. His grey eyes stared out at her intently.

"Don't you trust me yet Erik? I mean Magneto."

"I'm a big believer in trust…but verify. And most people knock first."

"Sorry. I'm used to having complete access everywhere."

The curve of a cruel smile flickered across his lips. "Yes. I've heard you were quite familiar with Shaw's bedroom."

Emma stiffened slightly. She didn't want to be typecast as just "the girlfriend" or recreation.

"I'm familiar with a lot more than you think," she said, crossing and recrossing her legs. "I love what you've done with the place."

He made a mocking gesture. "New curtains, some polish on the silverware, getting rid of the Nazi memorabilia. It's worked wonders."

She grabbed a Rook piece from the chessboard. "Yes, I don't see how you found the time to redecorate and play chess all by yourself."

He raised his hand and the piece flew from her grasp into his palm. Even though his thoughts were locked from hers, she could tell from his body language and expression that his mind was clouded with anger.

He crushed the piece in his hand. "Well, I used to play with Charles the other telepath, but I've yet to find his equal."

Emma leaned over the board, positioning herself so her cleavage swelled just a bit bigger. She locked her eyes on his for a moment and then looked down. "Well, if this is your strategy…"

She picked up a Knight piece and moved it until it was striking distance from his King. "Check"

"You know how to play chess?" he asked.

It could have been a compliment if it didn't sound so condescending.

"There are women that can play chess. We're not universally stupid, as the media would have you believe," she said.

He countered: "The stereotype of female inferiority has been around for far longer than the media."

"So has the stereotype of Jewish inferiority. According to the Nazis you're supposed to be stupid, dirty, greedy, vermin, et cetera."

Erik stared at his arm. A tattoo of a concentration camp number was inked across it. In the light it looked like a mixture of purple and black, like blood and darkness had melted together.

Emma spoke in a softer tone than usual: "You and I both know those stereotypes aren't true."

He gave her an appraising stare back. "True. I will admit, perhaps I've underestimated you as Shaw's former Girl Friday Night."

"So, how am I doing at filling in the void Charles left behind?"

Magneto raised his right hand. He looked like a priest or saint from an illuminated bible. One of his Bishop pieces moved across the board, in matching striking distance from her Queen.

"You are not Charles. And you never will be. Check."

Emma moved a pawn across the black and white spaces. "Give me a chance, and I can be something better. Better for you. Better for the Hellfire Club."

She looked into his eyes, frustrated by her inability to hear or even sense what he was thinking. Frustrated by her lack of control.

Magneto sighed. "Better isn't good enough. Checkmate."

"Did you wear that damn mask in front of Charles when you played with him? Of course he could beat you."

"I didn't have to."

"You do now. He's our enemy."

"I'm not really part of the Hellfire Club."

"Then what are you a part of?"

The chessboard pieces all started to rotate.

"I'm a part of the future of Mutantkind. I'm a part of..of..dammit we need a name."

The chessboard pieces all dropped and rolled onto the floor.

Emma started brainstorming. "A name? The Angel Cloud Club?"

Magneto deadpanned: "Angel Cloud? Oh joy. That will put fear into the hearts of millions."

"I was trying to think of the opposite of Hellfire. Maybe Greek letters, like a secret fraternal society."

"Fraternal, eh? Brotherhood! The Brotherhood of Mutants!"

Emma said: "Hello, breasts and a double XX chromosome sitting across from you. We have female members."

Magneto sighed. "You're really going to beat me over the head with this Woman Power bit, aren't you? I like Brotherhood. It has a strong connotation. Women like you are more than welcome to join."

"Oh, joy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Welcome to the Brotherhood Chapter 2**

**By Cadet Deming**

**I don't own the rights to the X-Men, Marvel and Fox Studios do so please don't sue. I work in litigation so you wouldn't want to anyhow. Magneto/Emma, but I'm trying to include more of the post First-Class Brotherhood. Thank you so much to the reviewers who encouraged me to continue with this. Rated T. **

Most rooms look alive during the day and unnatural at night. An office filled with hustle and bustle in daylight hours felt eerie after dark. A living room that seemed so homey in the morning often took on a sinister edge near midnight.

Nightclubs were the opposite. The same spaces filled to the edge with dancers, strobe lights, rhythmic music, and the smells of liquor, sweat and sex at Four in the morning looked like graveyards during the day. Dance floors looked smaller when empty.

The Hellfire main club room was no exception. When Emma entered it felt dark and claustrophobically tight. Only four other mutants gathered on chairs in front of the DJ booth. They sat divided by gender lines, or previous group membership, depending on how she wanted to categorize them.

To the left Emma's was Hellfire comrade Azazel. She could see his long red tail swishing back and forth like a cat's. It would have looked comical if she hadn't seen him use it to strangle or impale the eyes of so many victims.

Her other ally Riptide sat next to him. He turned to her when she walked in, but didn't speak. Riptide didn't say much about anything.He didn't think much about anything either.

On the other side perched the two new female recruits from the pro-humanity mutant group. Angel Salvadore rested closest to the original Hellfire group. She had been the fastest to switch sides from the CIA to Hellfire. Possibly too fast. Emma questioned if Angel was a true believer, or an opportunist with no true loyalty. She intended to keep a mind read on her.

The teenager that Erik had brought with him, known as Mystique, curled up on her seat to the farthest right. She sat awkwardly, like she hadn't gotten used to the feel of her own skin. Her own blue, reptilian, scaly skin. Mystique's golden almond eyes narrowed at Emma's approach for a moment.

Mystique then returned to staring up at Erik, who was balanced on the edge of the DJ booth like a king on a throne. He was wearing the helmet.

Mystique gawked at him like an infatuated stalker. Emma skimmed her mind and picked up on the mixture of obsession, hormones, and hero-worship that she felt when she was the younger mutant's age. A human schoolgirl with a crush could be harmless enough. An outlaw mutant in the same state could be dangerous. Emma resolved to keep a mind read, two ears, and two eyes on this one.

Erik greeted her: "Welcome Emma. Now we can start the first ever meeting of the Brotherhood of Mutants."

Emma debated which side of the room she should sit on: her old Hellfire co-workers, or the new women? She picked a seat next to Azazel and started twirling her finger through a lock of her platinum blonde hair.

"The first order of business," Erik said, using a speechifying tone. "Is old business."

Angel interrupted him: "Hold up. Wait a second. How can we have old business when this is our first meeting?"

"Because it's my old business. And my business is your business now. As I was saying, the first matter of old business is killing Nazis. Plenty of Nazis."

Angel asked: "Isn't World War II, like, over now. Didn't America win against the German Nazis?"

Erik tightened his knuckles against the edge of the booth. "There are still plenty left. Many war criminals escaped to Argentina and Brazil. And I suspect California. The humans out there are so…blonde. It is not natural."

Everyone turned and looked at Emma. She dropped her hand from her hair. "What? My people are Nordic. This is my real hair color."

Angel asked: "If we're killing people we're pissed off at, can we kill my ex-boyfriend Alonzo Wilfredo Aguirre-Diaz? The prick still owes me twenty bucks."

Mystique asked her with horror in her voice: "You would kill someone over twenty bucks?"

Azazel said: "I kill people over nothing. I do not see what the fuss is about."

Emma muttered: "I believe she would do far worse for less."

Angel glared at her. "What did you say about me Blondie?"

"Did I speak that out loud? My mistake," Emma said.

Eric bellowed: "Will all of you be quiet! Children! My followers are children!"

He jumped down. The metal in the exposed rafters and track lighting creaked and moved.

Angel stammered: "I'm sorry man…I'm over 21. Really."

Emma said: "She's lying. About being over 21, not about being sorry."

"How the hell do you know?" Angel asked.

Emma pointed to her own forehead. "Telepath, remember? And we should all be more reverential to Magneto."

"Yes. Reverential. I like that," he said.

"I'm reverential," Mystique said.

Emma could sense her yearning for Erik's approval. She reeked of it.

Erik walked over to the blue girl. He cradled her chin in his hand.

"Tell me Mystique. Are you reverential of human life? Does the thought of shedding a homo sapien's blood for money bother you?"

"I…yes. I mean, no. I mean…I don't know," she stammered.

Emma could hear the confusion and conflicting emotions in Mystique's mind: her excitement about being the center of his attention for the moment, desperation for his acceptance, guilt, and insecurity. She almost felt sorry for her.

"If you're going to follow me, understand this: human life doesn't matter. None of them matter anymore. The only blood that matters is mutant blood. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Whatever you say," she said.

He took his hand away. "Good girl."

Mystique clutched at her chin where he had touched her as he leapt back on to his makeshift throne.

Azazel whispered in Emma's ear: "I think I'm starting to like this guy."

**To be continued.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Welcome to the Brotherhood Chapter 3**

**By Cadet Deming**

**I don't own the rights to the X-Men, Marvel and Fox Studios do so please don't sue. I work in litigation so you wouldn't want to anyhow. Sorry for the long wait. Thank you so much to the reviewers who encouraged me to continue with this. Rated T for characters being…not very nice to each other at times. I'm trying to include some comic-only characters without it being too confusing for people that have only seen the movies. Takes place immediately after Chapter 2.**

"Magneto, may I have a word with you please," Emma asked as the other members started to filter out of the room.

"Of course," he replied.

Mystique hovered behind, staring at them.

"I meant in private," Emma said, meeting the blue girl's rubbernecking.

Mystique frowned and swiveled on her feet. Her movement reminded Emma of the way geckos and other lizards would scatter away from human movement or noise.

Through the openings in Magneto's mask, she could see a flicker of bemusement.

She asked: "About your plan to hunt Nazis, that's well and good and it would give us practice working as a team, but shouldn't we be focusing on the larger picture?"

"This is what you needed to see me in private about? You could just as well have brought it up during the meeting."

Emma rested her hand on the DJ booth to his left. "What did you think I wanted to get you alone for? I know better than to question my leaders in public. Of course if you would have discussed your plans with me first, I could have helped iron out any flaws ahead of time."

He rested his hand lightly on top of hers. "I don't have to run things by you first." He tightened his grip a little too much.

Emma didn't want to engage in an outright power struggle with him, especially if she hadn't learned what his weaknesses were yet. She was conflicted about mutants who were stronger than she was. When she was recruited by Sebastian, part of her had been overjoyed to finally meet someone who understood what it was like to be gifted. The other part resented being kicked back down to the level of assistant.

"I'm just offering to help," she said, segueing into her _I'm just a girl_ mode even as she hated herself for it. "Isn't the whole point of the Brotherhood to help our fellow mutants?"

"I don't need any help being a leader."

Emma covered the back of his hand with her free one. His skin felt hot, like he was riddled with a fever. Emma had discovered certain mutants' temperatures were higher than the standard human 98.6 degrees when they were about to discharge their powers. Sebastian's body smoldered after he had absorbed the kinetic energy of a bomb or other attack. Azazel's grip burned slightly before he teleported and smoked immediately afterwards.

"There's a difference between being a leader and a loner. You don't have to be a loner anymore," she said.

The tension in his hand seemed to melt away. "Are all of you telepaths alike? That sounds like something Charles would say. What is your suggestion?"

"I didn't even know there were other telepaths until Charles blocked me. I just think we should focus on things like recruitment and teaching. I don't see how hunting down Nazis helps that."

Magneto smiled. "Emma darling, do you really think Sebastian was the only one?"

"The only what?"

"The only scientist that experimented on mutations. Did Shaw ever tell you about his boss in the Death Camps? Dr. Robert Windsor. His nickname was a Polish translation of "Mister Sinister."

**Oxford, England, 2 months earlier **

Regan Wyngard slammed the door shut on her flat. She took her sunglasses off and stared at her reflection. Her one blue and one green eye stared back at her. If she was dealing with anyone else, she could have simply acted her way out of this. She took a deep breath and walked into the study.

Sinister filled a dark leather chair, tapping his fingers on the tufted arm rests. His preternaturally pale hands contrasted with the leather. The leather was crafted not from cowhides but human skin. Skin from people he deemed not worthy, or who were in the wrong place and wrong time, or who had simply disappointed him.

His burgundy blood-red eyes bore through her. Every second felt like an hour.

"Where is Charles Xavier?" he said. It didn't sound like a question from him. How could it, when he knew the answers before she had a chance to speak?

Regan gulped and tried to come up with an excuse, an apology, anything to keep him from treating her like the people he'd turned into furniture.

"He is…I was…I almost..." she stammered.

She felt Sinister in her head, like she was watching the scene all over again, reliving it. How she had followed his assignment to track the most powerful telepath on the planet to a local pub, pretended to be a co-ed named Amy, and used her own weaker psychic abilities to keep him from knowing she was tracking him. She had let him think he was seducing her with his corny "heterochromatic" pickup line. She wasn't able to enter his mind, for fear of tipping him off to her real intentions, but she overheard his conversation with the woman who called herself Moira MacTaggert.

"I would have brought him to you if I wasn't interrupted by that bloody CIA agent!" she protested.

A glass vase shattered into the wall behind her. Sinister hadn't moved at all. He didn't have to twitch a muscle to break or maim or destroy anything.

He stood up. "I'm very disappointed in you. He's leaving England now. No doubt he'll be behind lock and key in America. I hate America. It's all immigrants and opportunists and genetic waste."

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my fault."

"It doesn't matter whose fault it was. First the metal master disappears from the continent, now this."

"That wasn't my fault either."

"Stop talking now, you bloody slag," he said.

She felt his order inside of her head, like the command was emanating from her own nervous system. Regan felt her lips tighten. She couldn't move them, even to breathe. She tried to part them, but it was painful.

"_What do you want me to do_?" she projected into his head.

He walked towards her. She couldn't move away. He'd frozen all of her.

Sinister ran his fingers through her hair. "I think I like you best like this. A beautiful woman that can't talk. It's a shame about your telepathy. Wasted on such an incompetent."

"_I can't breathe_**," **she projected.

She couldn't inhale or exhale, but she could feel the pain of her life slipping away. She couldn't even whimper.

He released her so suddenly she lost her balance. The ground seemed to rise as she fell over. She inhaled as if it was her last breath.

"I want you to come with me to America. I'll give you a second chance to prove yourself. And this time, you're going to succeed in bringing me the world's most powerful mutants. After me, that is.

To be continued.

**Author's notes: I couldn't remember if the pub scene was in Cambridge or Oxford. I suspected the girl in the "heterochromatic scene" might turn out to be more important down the line. (In Origins and X-2, William Stryker's son has the same eye pattern, and in one of the CIA scenes Xavier talks to William Stryker's dad). **


	4. Chapter 4

**Welcome to the Brotherhood Chapter 4**

**By Cadet Deming**

**I don't own the rights to the X-Men, Marvel and Fox Studios do so please don't sue. I work in litigation so you wouldn't want to anyhow. Rated T for adult language, situations, and violence. Reviews are much appreciated.**

The food pantry next to the Hellfire Club's kitchen was like an oversized gourmet Cracker Jack box. Open a cabinet door and one could pull out a delicacy, or a handful of food that tasted like saw dust.

Mystique ate from a bowl of cereal that could pass for sawdust in milk. Angel rested on the industrial kitchen counter next to the sink. She gripped an opened bottle of premium vodka. Her legs were bare and spread far too wide to be considered ladylike. Her wings stretched out behind her. They looked more like the iridescent extensions of a fly than the mythological feathers of her angelic namesake.

Emma felt a slight chill in the air that didn't come from the refrigerator. She got along well enough with most men, but too many other women looked at her and saw a threat. Emma liked to tell herself it didn't bother her that most men were nicer to her because they saw her as a conquest, but she sometimes longed for female friendship untainted by an ulterior motive.

"Hello girls," Emma said, simultaneously sliding in to her "Ice Queen mode," but trying to be polite.

Angel just took a swig directly from the bottle without responding. A fly started to buzz around.

"Hi. Do you have a code name? Everyone here has to have a code name," Mystique said.

Emma opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a bottle of orange juice. "Sebastian used to call me the White Queen. After the chess piece."

Angel rolled her eyes.

Mystique asked: "Does it seem kind of strange that one second Sebastian Shaw is trying to kill us, and now we're living on his property, and the man who killed him is our leader? I understand that the rest of the world would kill us if they knew what we were, and I believe that Magneto is right, but this is all happening so fast."

Emma poured her juice into a glass. The fly buzzed around its rim. She waved it away.

Angel took another swig from her bottle. "Mystique babe, I know you'd follow Magneto anywhere. But little Miss White Queen here seems to be taking over your spot."

Mystique hissed: "Drop it Angel."

The room was silent except for the buzzing of the fly.

Emma spoke in the most monotone delivery she could conjure: "Magneto and I have a working relationship, and beyond that is of no concern to you."

Angel leapt on to the floor. She almost lost her balance, but her wings seemed to pull her back. Her breath smelled like the vodka she had been draining away, mixed with something acidic. Emma had been around plenty of drunks in her years at Hellfire, but the stench was more acrid than she could remember.

"Working? Does he leave money on your dresser before or after you shag him? White Queen my ass, you're just a working girl like me under your airs of superiority. You're not better than me. You're not better than me! Oh, your ex-boyfriend Sebastian told me all about you."

Mystique grabbed at Angel's shoulder, but she batted her away.

Emma kept up her façade. "You're drunk and saying things you don't mean. And you and I have nothing in common but our cause."

Angel swiped at Emma, but missed. "You can read minds, bitch. Read my mind now. Sebastian left you to rot with the CIA. Why do you think it took so long to break you out? Sebastian left you behind because he was with me and didn't need you anymore. Magneto only rescued you because it was Azazel's idea."

Angel's memories screamed out at Emma. She saw a flash of visions and soundbites: Sebastian and his charm and seductiveness and the way he could make decadence and destruction sound like the most reasonable things ever. A decadence Emma believed he shared with her and her alone.

"Angel darling, this is a waste of time. It's pointless trying to pick a fight over a dead man. Sebastian is gone. I'm still here. I'm the one you should be afraid of."

Angel, for once, was silent. Mystique sighed from the sidelines. Emma walked away, holding her head high.

The housefly bit her on her exposed neck. Emma slapped it, crushing it beneath her palm.

"Look out!" Mystique screamed.

Emma turned and saw a flash of green racing towards her. She felt a blistering heat and transformed into diamond.

Angel screamed: "Don't you hurt my brothers and sisters!"

Her voice sounded far away. Even though Emma had made "The Change" so many times, it was still disorienting to transition to her diamond defensive form. It was like being cut off from the world by a shell of glass.

Angel opened her mouth again. A green and gold light shone from the back of her throat.

"Stop it!" Mystique screamed. She hit Angel in the back of her head, and the girl fell down.

Emma changed back to flesh form. The acrid stench from Angel's mouth mixed with a burning smell and invaded Emma's nostrils. She looked behind and saw a chair behind her had caught on fire in two symmetrical places. She realized her body had split Angel's fireball in two.

Mystique said: "Don't just stand there. We need water, a fire extinguisher, anything."

Emma snapped out of her shock and turned on a water faucet.

Magneto loomed in the doorway. "What the bloody hell happened here?"

Azazel teleported in to the same spot on the counter Angel had been sitting on earlier. He had his knives raised in a threatening posture. He surveyed the wreckage.

The teleporter asked: "Are we under attack?"

Emma and Mystique looked at each other for a moment.

Emma said: "No. I swatted a fly. It turned out to be one of Angel's family members and it offended her."

She looked at Mystique to see what she would say. Mystique locked her golden eyes on her, and then stared at Magneto, and then at Angel lying on the floor. Angel moaned.

"It's true. Whenever Angel drinks, something bad happens," Mystique corroborated.

Magneto raised his hands and the refrigerator moved towards the flames. It shrieked, scraping along the ground, until its freezer door swung open and the ice in it smothered the flames out. He twitched his fingers and the refrigerator scraped back into its nook.

"Thank you," Emma said.

Magneto's eyes were cold. "Clean up the rest. I'm calling a training session tomorrow at 8 AM sharp. We have got to get in synch as a team to take on Sinister. And avoid further…mishaps like this."

Angel moaned: "I need an aspirin."

Magneto barked as he left them: "Hangovers will be no excuse. _Oy vey_. I have children in my army!"

Angel whimpered: "I'm gonna throw up again."

Mystique balanced her over her shoulder. "I'll get her to a toilet before she sets anything else on fire."

"Thank you. For stopping her," Emma said, and then projected her thought: "_From attacking me."_

"You're welcome."

As Mystique left she caught Azazel staring at the blue girl's backside. Emma started to get a few ideas.

Emma asked him: "Oh Azazel, could you please help me with this?"

He seemed to snap out of his reverie. "_Da_. I was hoping we were under attack. Things were starting to get boring around here. All talk, no action."

He opened up a pantry door and pulled out a dustbin and broom. Emma wasn't overly familiar with housework. Her family had maids for the daily chores. After they had disowned her, she had to learn to adapt.

They split sweeping up the ice and dumping it in the sink. It smelled like wet dust, commingled with the sulfur and brimstone that accompanied Azazel's teleportation.

When they finished, Azazel held up the bottle of vodka. He caressed the frosted glass with one hand.

"Western girls," he sighed. "They cannot hold their drink."

"Honey, I'm a Western girl."

"You are a woman. There is a difference."

He pulled two shot glasses out. They were both ringed in a metallic gold. She wondered if Magneto could control these as well. With a healthy sense of paranoia, she scanned the nearby area for the thoughts of anyone in hearing distance. She couldn't be entirely sure if they were unobserved, as Erik could be wearing the helmet.

Emma locked the door. When she turned around Azazel was sitting in one of the remaining chairs. He slid a shot glass towards her.

He was so demonic-looking she couldn't help but think of the biblical stories of Eve tempted by the forbidden fruit. Vodka looked so innocent on its own, like water. In his grip it looked candy apple red.

They downed their shots simultaneously.

Emma spoke in lowered tones: "I heard you were the one who really wanted me out of CIA clutches. Thank you, for what it's worth."

"You're welcome. I thought you already knew, what with your mind-reading."

She purred: "I've been distracted with all these changes we've been going through. I guess I've been so focused on the new people, I haven't been paying enough attention to…old friends."

Azazel gulped, even though he'd already drained his first shot. He poured them both a second round.

His tail started to wag. "You have showed me kindness in the past. So few people have, I don't forget that. So, who told you?"

"A little fly in my ointment told me." She smiled mock-innocently. "What do you really think of these new people?"

"I'm a soldier. I follow the strongest general. Welcome to the new boss. Same as the old boss."

"But, no overriding sense of loyalty?"

"I know you, Emma. Who do you want me to kill?"

"Magneto," she said.

**To be continued **

**More Sinister in the next chapter**


	5. Chapter 5

**Welcome to the Brotherhood Chapter 5**

**By Cadet Deming**

**I don't own the rights to the X-Men, Marvel and Fox Studios do so please don't sue. I work in litigation so you wouldn't want to anyhow. Rated T for adult language, situations, and violence. Please read and review, it's much appreciated. Takes place immediately after Chapter 4**

Emma rationalized to Azazel: "I'm not saying kill Magneto right this instant. I'm more looking for a backup plan, just in case he ever turns on us."

Azazel stroked his fingers through his ebony black beard. "Why do you come to me with this? Why can't you do it yourself?"

Emma thought of her real reasons: because she was afraid of Erik, because she was frustrated with her inability to control him, because she was stinging from Sebastian's betrayal and projecting it on to the man who replaced him. Most deeply, because the thought of ever being dependent on one person alone again terrified her and she needed to fight her pattern. All of the reasons in her head made her feel weak.

She said: "You're the best fighter here. But there is always safety in numbers. Of course I would assist should Erik ever turn that nasty temper of his on you. I'm not talking about attacking him now, just insurance. One can never have too much security."

"One can never have enough security. But I agree. At least with Sebastian we knew what we were getting. This one, I wonder about sometimes. I'll make this deal with you."

Emma smiled and shook his hand, realizing she'd literally made a deal…with a devil.

"So tell me," she asked. "What do you think about Mystique?"

_**Pan Am Flight Number 1812, Departing from London Heathrow Airport **

Regan Wyngarde had been on airplanes before, but this was her first time in First Class. Other than the stewardesses, she was the only woman on the flight. The rest of the passengers were predominantly businessmen dressed in grey, black, or navy suits.

One of the men asked her: "Oh, Miss, can you help me with my bag please?"

She replied: "I don't work here."

"My mistake. You're pretty enough to be one of the stewardesses. Are your eyes really green and blue? I'm John."

Regan was so tired of men trying to use her eyes as a pickup line, as if she had never noticed her own eye colors. She saw John had a wedding ring on.

Sinister interrupted: "Excuse me, you're blocking the way."

John said: "Sorry. I didn't know she was travelling with her father."

Sinister put a possessive hand on her shoulder. He lowered his voice. "Here's an idea John. How about as soon as the flight takes off, you lock yourself in the bathroom and burn yourself with that pack of cigarettes in your pocket. But only in places where the public can't see."

John's eyes glazed over. "Whatever you say, master."

Regan smiled. "Here's another suggestion. The next time you try to cheat on your wife, you're going to see her face everywhere."

Sinister ordered: "Walk away John."

Regan and her boss settled in to their plush seats.

Sinister said: "Travelling with your father my behind. I'm old enough to be your….great-great-great-great-grandfather. Why did you reserve me a window seat? The sun is bad enough for me at sea level, but at this high up in the atmosphere the rays are even worse."

He pulled the shade down. The anemically pale skin on the hand he used turned a blistering shade of red where the sun had beamed directly against it.

She said: "You told me no aisle seats so you wouldn't have to be exposed to the waste of humanity. First class seats are only four across. Do you want to switch?"

"No. I'd rather watch how many men walking down the aisle try to hit on you."

"Does that bother you?"

Sinister stared at her like she was a bug glued to a microscope slide. "I'm not sure if breeding you to a human would be the best use of your genes. Unless it was someone of use to me."

"Breeding me? Am I your Cocker Spaniel?"

"More like a rabid Toy Poodle. Go to sleep now."

Regan felt exhaustion overtake her, spreading from her mind and throughout the length of her body. The last words she heard were: "Welcome to Pan Am Flight 1812 from London-Heathrow to Westchester, New York."

**Brotherhood Headquarters **

Magneto addressed his followers: "It's come to my attention that we have yet to gel together as a group. We all have extraordinary abilities on our own, but those can be even greater if we combine them. Charles Xavier's training focused on untapping your deepest potential. Shaw's training focused on creating maximum damage. My proposal is to use the best of those methods."

He seemed more natural when he addressed them this time, like he was getting more comfortable with leadership. He turned to a chalkboard on the wall and started to write.

Angel wore sunglasses inside, despite being in one of the darkest rooms of the club. Emma didn't need to read her mind to tell that she was hungover. She opened her mouth to speak.

Without turning around or looking back from the chalkboard, Magneto said: "I don't want to hear it Angel."

Angel said: "But you didn't even give me a chance to…

He cut her off. "I'm getting to know you and your weaknesses. The more you know about someone, the more you can predict what he or she will do next. If you can predict your opponents next move, you're always one step ahead of the game."

Mystique said: "Like chess."

He smiled at her. "Exactly."

Emma felt a pang of something she didn't want to admit was envy or jealousy. "With your permission, may I suggest we pair off in training into teams of people who haven't worked in tandem before, so we can all get better acclimated to each other."

Angel said: "I don't know what 'acclimated' means, but it sounds boring."

Emma ignored her. "How about Riptide and Angel pair off? They're both suited for long-range combat and they're also both…ethnic."

Emma heard Angel think: "_Ethnic? Is this bitch racist_?"

Magneto looked thoughtful. "Yes, that would be a good training match. He never talks and Angel can't keep her mouth shut about anything. They're perfect together."

"How about Azazel and Mystique train together?" Emma asked. "Their mutations can help with stealth operations and they're both…primary colors."

Angel thought: "_Yup. Definitely racist_."

Azazel beamed at Mystique.

Mystique's expression was cool but unreadable. "Of course you partner up with Magneto."

Azazel muttered: "What am I? Chopped liver."

Magneto decreed in a tone not to be argued with: "I like the partnerships. Let's get better…acclimated with each other."

He took Emma's hand and led her away.


	6. Chapter 6

**Welcome to the Brotherhood Chapter 6**

**By Cadet Deming**

**I don't own the rights to the X-Men, Marvel and Fox Studios do so please don't sue. I work in litigation so you wouldn't want to anyhow. Rated T for adult language, situations, and violence. Thanks so much to everyone who took the time to review. It's a great motivator to keep writing.**

Erik led Emma to a backroom of the club. Silken pillows in shades of yellow, orange, red and gold covered most of the floor. Hookah pipes meant for substances that weren't exactly legal were spaced out evenly among the linens. Wall-to-wall mirrors stretched from the ceiling to the ground. They made the space seem limitless yet intimate at the same time.

He waved his hands and the pipes levitated and collapsed into a corner.

Emma arched one of her eyebrows. "I take it you're not a smoker."

"Not that kind of smoke. I was clearing a safer place for us to practice tackling each other."

"Tackling. Is that what you call this?" She asked: "Powers or no powers?"

His brow furrowed. "I should probably make sure we're all proficient fighting with or without them. But powers for now. Change into your diamond form."

Emma switched and the world became liquid crystal. She was transparent in this state, so the mirrors reflected off of each other through her.

Magneto cocked his head to the side. "I think I prefer you like this. You we're beautiful before, but in a bland, blonde, blue-eyed _Shiksa_ model-turned-actress sort of way. You seem more evolved in this state. Like this is the real you."

He put his hands on her shoulders and she remembered how he had once almost strangled her in this supposedly impenetrable form.

She gently but firmly pushed his hands away. "This isn't the real me. It's a secondary mutation. I can't even use any of my mental powers like this."

"Are you cubic zirconia, then?"

"No. Diamond through and through. But diamonds are dead. Is the real you hiding behind a helmet?"

"I'm not hiding. I'm protecting. And it's not just about you. Charles could be listening."

"Honey, Charles could be in anyone else in this Club's head. Your hat no more shields us than if we went into a rainstorm and you were the only one carrying an umbrella."

"You're right. And you can't ready my thoughts like this anyhow." He sighed and took the helmet off. In a way it seemed as intimate as when a woman undressed for her lover for the first time.

Emma smiled. "I like you better like this. Raw. Out in the open. Like a man and not just a general in uniform."

She started to transform back into human flesh.

"Don't," he said.

She heard him think: "_I don't want anyone to know the monster I'm turning into_."

Emma went back to diamond.

"You don't trust me," she said, but she thought: "_You don't trust yourself_."

"I want to be able to trust you completely. But I don't want to surrender a tactical advantage by exposing any weaknesses."

If Emma could feel normal human emotions while she was a diamond, she would be wracked with guilt. "Is that chess speak for you're afraid of people finding out you're not perfect? Everyone has flaws, love. And you don't have to trust me completely. You just have to trust me enough."

He grabbed her and kissed her, hard. His hands trailed down her back, pulling her farther against him. She couldn't really close her eyes in this form as she was transparent, but she could see their multiple reflections. The magnitude of the line they were crossing together echoed back to infinity.

She pushed him away. "Not like this. I can't feel anything."

Erik looked like she had slapped him. "I kiss you and you tell me you can't even feel it?"

He was like a cold fire now, burning and yet ruthlessly detached. The pipes in the room clanked together.

"When I'm diamond I can't feel emotions, or the way your body feels against mine or what you taste like. Our first kiss, I want to…I need to feel that."

He seemed to soften just a fraction. "Very well then. But stay out of my head…please."

Emma turned back. His body heat warmed her against the chill of the air. She breathed in his scent, experienced his lips against hers and heard his moans as he kissed her again.

She snuck a glance at their mirrored images. For a brief moment, she and Erik both looked happy.

**Westchester, New York**

Regan and Sinister watched the construction crews surrounding the Xavier family estate. Their rental car smelled like cigarettes and stale coffee. Through the windshield a giant yellow sign read: "Future Site of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Opening August, 1963."

He asked: "Does anything seem wrong about this to you?"

She replied: "Is hell freezing over and you're having a change of heart?"

"No, Henchbimbo. Morality is just something the powers that be invented to keep the little people in their place. I've evolved beyond it. I meant the construction crews working full throttle at night."

Regan shrugged. "Everything seems to be backwards in America. They drive on the wrong side of the road. They don't use the metric system. They refer to football as "Soccer" and their American football as "Football."

"Backwards yes, but not nocturnal. They're working at night either because they're in a hurry, which I doubt because August is far off, or Charles Xavier is hiding something he can't use mind control to cover."

"So, can't you just invade his mind from here and find out what it is?"

Sinister rested back in his car seat and frowned.

"Too risky," he said. "He'd feel it if I tried a mind-link. You're going in and doing recon."

He waved his hand, shooing her away like a cur. She felt like a canary being lowered into a coal mine.

"By myself?" she asked.

"Am I supposed to hold your hand? Hurry up now."

Regan paused. "You promised you'd make me immortal. Wouldn't it make sense for you to make me immortal before you send me into the lion's den?"

"Are you refusing my order?"

"I'm not refusing. I'm…stalling."

He frowned at her and the redness in his eyes turned the color that was the harbinger that he was about to do something very, very violent. She nervously glanced at her surroundings. He could use anything against her, from the seatbelt mere centimeters from her neck, to the guns in her holsters, to her own body and mental faculties. She felt conscious of every breath she took, wondering if he would tamper with it.

She reasoned: "If you use your powers here, you might warn Xavier of your presence."

He half-sneered, half-smirked. "I wouldn't waste them on you now. Go. I won't ask again."

Regan scurried out, wondering if immortality was worth dying over. She mentally cloaked herself in invisibility and climbed over the fence. The construction crew continued on.

The full size of the Xavier mansion came into view. Growing up in Great Britain she had seen plenty of castles, manors and country houses of the wealthy. They were larger, but had felt more appealing in a commercialized, tourist trap way.

The house didn't feel like a museum, but alive. Lights were on in corners and there was a hum of activity. The life didn't feel inviting at all, but threatening. She knew she wasn't welcomed here.

She used a skeleton key Sinister had given her and entered the lion's den.


	7. Chapter 7

**Welcome to the Brotherhood Chapter 7**

**By Cadet Deming**

**I don't own the rights to the X-Men, Marvel and Fox Studios do so please don't sue. I work in litigation so you wouldn't want to anyhow. Rated T for adult language, situations, and violence. Please read and review-)**

**Hellfire Club Quarters**

Emma had learned over the years that the best way to get to know a man, to really find out who he truly was, was to watch his behavior in the five minutes after she slept with him. Unfortunately, if he turned out to be a self-centered cad after she got horizontal, by then it was too late.

Although she was "experienced" and what many would be quick to label a "bad girl," Emma hated one-night stands. She felt like they were a form of losing her power. She watched Erik, waiting to see what this would turn into.

Erik didn't hastily zip up his fly and come up with lame excuses about needing to be up early even though it was a Friday night. He didn't rush to take a 45-minute shower to wash away the guilt. He didn't smother her in a spooning position and whisper sweet nothings about taking her home to meet his parents.

He stretched his arms behind his head, smiled at her, and simply said: "Thank you."

Emma tried to gauge his mood. She wanted to enter his mind, but didn't want to violate his request for her not to.

"You're welcome I think," she said.

He cocked his eyebrow. "What do you wish me to say?"

Emma steeled herself, or more accurately, iced herself. "I'd say the truth, but people only want the truth if it's something they want to hear."

He sighed and put his arm around her shoulder. "You and I live very complicated lives. Sex seems to complicate things. Especially for women."

She pulled her knees in tighter against herself. "It would be easier if you'd just let me in your head so we could bypass all of this dancing around."

"What do you want from me?"

"You," she said, surprised at her own directness.

"Only if you can handle me," he said.

She met his arrogance with attitude of her own: "I thought I was handling you just fine five minutes ago."

He smiled and kissed her again. She felt back in control, as much as anyone could be in control of someone like Erik.

He nibbled on her neck and whispered in her ear: "You and I are complicated, but I never knew complicated could feel so damn good."

**Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters**

Regan crept through the hallways of the mansion. She used her power of illusion to keep herself invisible, but still felt exposed. She surmised this must be what witnesses behind one-way glass must feel about picking out criminals in a lineup. They were supposed to be protected, but to have the criminals under the spotlight staring back in their direction must have seemed dangerous.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection on a suit of armor and ducked instinctively. Her illusions only worked inside people's minds. They were useless against cameras or even mirrors.

Regan wondered where Xavier was most likely to be: A bedroom, an office or maybe a kitchen. She wanted to use her telepathy, but was afraid he could feel it. She wasn't powerful enough to stay invisible and send out a signal for other mutants' minds.

She turned a corner and saw something out of a dream. When she'd joked about entering a lion's den earlier, she didn't realize it would turn out to be literal.

A large humanoid padded in front of her. It was hairy and looked simian and feline all at once. Its fur was blue, but not the silvery-bluish grey color of a Russian Blue or Korat housecat. Instead it was an azure shade, like the Mediterranean Sea.

She questioned for a moment if she was hallucinating herself. Maybe this was Karma for all of the visions she had invaded others' minds with, as if Charles Xavier had caught wind of her and was attacking her with her own modus operandi. Sinister had built him up to be a God-like enough figure.

The creature rotated its head towards her. Glasses sat atop its nose, which it pushed farther up on its face with a claw-tipped hand. Its other claw gripped a book titled: "Theoretical Physics."

It asked with a surprisingly sophisticated masculine voice: "Is someone there?"

Regan held her breath. He appeared to be staring straight at her. She used all of her strength to keep up the illusion of invisibility.

He shrugged and turned away, mumbling to himself: "I'll never get used to these overactive senses."

She exhaled and he snapped his head back. His nostrils flared and his ears turned towards her. A throaty growl rumbled from his throat, as bestial as his earlier words had sounded civilized.

"_Don't panic! Don't panic! Don't panic_!" she thought.

He opened his mouth, baring fangs.

She reached back into her memories and twisted them. Instead of projecting invisibility into his brain, she conjured up a vision of a rust-shaded dog the size of a bull. Regan added the stench of a wet, dirty canine covered in filth. She forced the real creature in front of her to hear a phantom roaring bark. For emphasis she added dripping blood from the teeth of her creation.

The blue man's yellow eyes grew larger and he yelped. He ran out of the room. She used the last of her reserves to ensure that he kept seeing a continuous haunting loop of her creation in his mind for as long as her power would allow.

Regan continued on, hoping to find Xavier before the blue beast came to its senses. She frantically opened door after door, finding nothing but ornate classroom after ornate classroom.

Finally, she reached for a doorknob on a carved oak door at the end of the hallway. She felt a tingle in her brain and sensed, or more like she "knew" that she was near another telepath. It reminded her of the first time she had met Sinister and learned she wasn't "the only one."

She opened the door and Charles Xavier sat in front of her. He looked at her like he was expecting her, but he wasn't what she expected. When she had met him previously, he was a drunk, arrogant graduate student, all big blue eyes and grand gestures. He looked smaller and older than she remembered. There were crow's feet around his eyes, and the beginnings of male pattern baldness circled his forehead.

It took her a moment to realize he was sitting in a wheelchair. The fabric of his pants wrinkled to reveal that the legs underneath them had atrophied.

"I know you," he said, and it sounded like a question and an answer simultaneously.

"We've met before. I'm here to-"

He finished for her: "-Kidnap me."

Regan reached for her guns.

Charles whipped his fingers up to his temple. His lips didn't move, but she heard him scream in her mind: "_Beast! Havok! Banshee! Come quickly! We're being…"_

Sinister appeared behind Charles and held his fingers to his own temple. "Call them off now," he ordered.

Xavier's eyes clouded over. His body looked unnaturally tense. It was a poise Regan recognized from when Sinister used his telekinesis to immobilize her.

"Call them off now," Sinister repeated.

Xavier projected: "_Never mind boys. I thought we were being profiled on the television, but it's just a commercial for comic books. Go about your business again, please_."

Regan said to Sinister: "I thought you were waiting in the car."

"If I told you my real plan and you were captured, I'd lose my element of surprise."

Xavier said: "Using your own assistant as bait to keep me distracted. You're low, and an embarrassment to mutants."

Sinister smiled, showing the whites of his teeth. In a way it looked more menacing that when the blue monster she assumed was "Beast" had bared his fangs.

He wrapped his fingers around Xavier's neck. "I'd watch that tongue of yours, unless you want me to make you bite it off. Let's step into your office and get better acquainted."


	8. Chapter 8

**Welcome to the Brotherhood Chapter 8**

**By Cadet Deming**

**I don't own the rights to the X-Men, Marvel and Fox Studios do so please don't sue. I work in litigation so you wouldn't want to anyhow. Rated T for adult language, situations, torture, and violence. Please read and review-) It's much appreciated.**

**Xavier's School for Gifted Children**

Sinister waved his hand and Xavier's wheelchair rolled towards him, as if he was pulling it on a string. The door to the office swung and locked shut behind them.

Regan sat on top of the desk and watched the two men face off. Xavier looked like a dwarf in comparison to her boss.

Sinister said: "Finally meeting you in the flesh is rather disappointing. I thought you'd be taller."

Xavier said dryly: "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I have fans."

"I didn't expect the world's most powerful telepath to be a cripple." Sinister drew out the word "cripple."

Xavier crinkled his brow. "Hmm, the pale skin covered with the traces of blister scars, the receding gums. I assume you're allergic to sunlight. You're rather flawed yourself. I'd diagnose you as suffering from a case of hereditary porphyria."

Sinister's lips twitched when Xavier said "flawed."

He leaned over his captive. "I prefer the folkloric explanation for my condition."

"You fancy yourself a vampire, modeled after a children's story."

"Who's to say the stories weren't modeled around me? I had a flat next to a bloke named Bram Stoker in London. He should have given me half of the royalties from 'Dracula.'"

"That's impossible. Dracula was published in the 1890's."

"Are you accusing me of being a liar?" Sinister spread his arms out in a theatrical gesture. "Read my mind."

Xavier frowned. A vein in his temple throbbed.

"I can't." Charles said. "Who the bloody hell are you?"

"I'm known by many names: Dr. Robert Windsor, Nathaniel Essex, Nosferatu, Mr. Sinister, Master, Boss, Stop-You-Inhuman-Monster-Please-Stop. If you call me anything but Sinister I'll make your heart explode."

A bead of sweat dripped from Xavier's forehead. "What do you want from me?"

Sinister waved his hand and the wheelchair rolled closer. "It must be frustrating to not be able to access my thoughts. You must feel so impotent. Of course being a paraplegic, you actually are impotent now, aren't you? Regan, where are my syringes?"

Xavier's face reddened. The look in his eyes was murderous.

She handed Sinister a hypodermic needle. He jammed it into Xavier's thigh.

Sinister twisted the needle and mocked: "Can you feel this? Does it hurt?"

Xavier looked away. "I can't feel my legs. You're wasting your time."

Sinister made a tisking noise. "So I can only torture half of you. Such a waste."

"It takes a strong man to beat up on the handicapped. I'm in awe of your bravery. Why are you really here?"

Sinister pushed up of Xavier's sleeves and inserted the tip of the needle into one of Xavier's femoral veins. His victim winced. Regan knew Sinister always picked the largest, most uncomfortable needles, as he had used them so often on her. He pulled the syringe out and gave it to her.

"I'm here because I want your blood. And your brain." Sinister kicked the wheelchair back. "When I came to kidnap you I didn't realize how mobile you were."

Her master started laughing. Regan started laughing too, more out of tension than anything else.

She was still laughing when Sinister ordered her: "Shut up Henchbimbo."

Regan felt a little tingle in the back of her mind. Xavier was facing Sinister, but his eyes were on her. She could feel him trying to enter her head. She put up a mental block.

Xavier shifted his gaze back to his captor. "So kidnap me already."

Sinister laughed again. "You think if I leave with you quickly your precious students will be safe? Take me, but leave my precious X-Men alone! You're so quick to use telepathy on others; you don't even realize when it's being done to you. This School for Gifted Youngsters is your cover for finding and recruiting mutants. You're turning this mansion into a spider-web, and now you're going to help me lure the flies."

**Brotherhood of Mutants Headquarters**

Angel flapped her wings as she alighted on the dance floor. "Are we gonna get to see some action soon? I'm getting bored."

Erik sighed. "Of course, our political goals are intended for your entertainment. But yes, we are going on our first mission. Where are Azazel and Mystique?"

Emma said: "I'll call for Azazel. Mystique shouldn't be too far away."

She whistled. It was a special signal she had worked out with the teleporter that he could hear even if he was in his in-between brimstone dimension world. She wasn't sure how the mechanics worked, but he came whenever she called. A few moments later he teleported in with Mystique clutching his hand.

Erik said: "We're going after Robert Windsor today. Or tonight, depending on the time zone differences between here and England. I'm sure Azazel is more used to those. You can stop holding Mystique's hand now."

The red and blue mutants separated. Emma wondered for a moment if Erik was a tad jealous, or just overprotective. She honored his request not to enter his mind though.

"If I may," Mystique said. "Azazel's been training me in murder techniques…I never realized a fork could be so deadly…and if it's ok with you, I'd like to be the one to kill this Windsor guy. I figure if I'm going to desensitize myself to killing, it's better to start with a war criminal that really deserves it and then work my way down to innocent bystanders."

Erik looked thoughtful. "I was hoping to do Windsor in myself, but I see your point. I like your enthusiasm. Depending on how things go down, I'll possibly grant you this as a training exercise. I want to watch of course."

Emma figured Erik meant he wanted to control Windsor's death, or he was genuinely sadistic, or both.

The whole group linked hands. Erik situated himself between both Emma and Mystique, who unsurprisingly was attached to Azazel. They all teleported together.


	9. Chapter 9

**Welcome to the Brotherhood Chapter 9**

**By Cadet Deming**

**I don't own the rights to the X-Men, Marvel and Fox Studios do so please don't sue. I work in litigation so you wouldn't want to anyhow. Rated T for adult language, situations, torture, and violence. Please read and review.**

**London, England**

The Brotherhood teleported into an alleyway next to Robert Windsor's most recent London address. It was colder than the humidity of the Washington, DC location they had just left. Emma peeked out of the alley and saw a clock broadcasting they were 5 hours ahead.

Everything surrounding them felt "older" somehow. When Shaw had dragged the Hellfire Club to Las Vegas, everything had been built up in the past few years. When they relocated to Washington, there was a greater feeling of history. Now in England, the past commingled with the present. Trees were taller. The buildings were Victorian. A placard on the wall across from Windsor's building read: "The Nathaniel Essex Home for Orphans: Est. 1870."

Erik asked: "Emma, can you sense Windsor's presence?"

She put her fingers to her forehead and concentrated inside of the building. It was like trying to pick up brain waves out of a black hole.

She reported: "Something's not right. It's a dead zone. This time of night, there should at least be people home sleeping. There's no life here."

Mystique stepped forwards. "Maybe he has some kind of a psychic shield. If this guy focused on mutant research, he's probably aware of telepaths."

Emma was getting nervous, but tried to look stoic. The more humanity learned of the existence of mutants, the more likely they could be prepared to defeat them.

Erik took out a coin with a Nazi insignia and rolled it through his fingers. "It could be a trap. Azazel, teleport inside the apartment and check things out first."

Azazel disappeared.

Mystique asked: "What if something happens to him? Then what?"

Erik said: "He's a warrior. He knows the risks. I'm concerned you may still be too soft-hearted for this."

Mystique said: "I meant how will we get a ride back? He's our transportation."

Out of curiosity if the girl was telling the truth, Emma tried to read her mind.

Mystique thought-screamed at her: "GET OUT OF MY HEAD EMMA!"

Shocked, Emma psychically pulled back. Mystique stared at her with those golden-almond eyes of hers, and for the first time it hit her how unexpressive her face was. She had no normal eyebrows, and her face didn't wrinkle or show the emotional nuances of a normal person's skin. She could be hiding anything, just like the building they were trying to breach.

Erik, oblivious to the women's mental non-conversation said: "I suppose we'll have to hijack a plane, then. It's high time the Brotherhood gained some publicity."

Azazel returned. "It is empty. No one is home. Come, I take you all inside."

They linked up and transported into Windsor's apartment. The living room was decorated with photographs, loads and loads of photographs. Most of the pictures were of a pale man, with varying styles of facial hair. He looked modern in a few, but the hairstyles looked dated in many. Some looked like classical pictures from the 19th century.

She pondered for a moment if it wasn't the same man, but several generations from the same family. The resemblance was too uncannily strong.

Angel said: "He's got enough pictures of himself. What an ego."

Emma noted: "Pictures everywhere, but not a mirror in sight."

Mystique said: "He hates himself."

Angel asked: "How can you tell?"

Mystique replied: "Because when I hated the way I looked, I avoided mirrors too."

Azazel squeezed Mystique's hand: "You do not need a mirror to show you are beautiful."

Emma said: "But mirrors show us how quickly we age. Or how slowly. How old was this man when you knew him?"

Erik seemed engrossed with one picture in particular. Windsor was dressed in an SS Uniform. He stood next to another man in Nazi regalia.

He took the picture off of the wall. "In the camps he was in his 40's. Or so I thought. Recognize anyone?"

He handed the picture to Emma. She stared at it before realizing the other man was Sebastian Shaw, but he looked 30 years older than she remembered.

"My ex. I wish I'd have gotten the number for his plastic surgeon before you killed him."

Erik dropped the picture and the glass cracked. "Search this place for evidence of where Windsor is now."

They scattered. Angel started to pocket any small items that looked expensive. Riptide created a whirlwind which pulled the drawers out of a chest. Mystique overturned a trashcan.

Emma followed Erik into the bedroom. He stared at a wall. The door slammed shut behind them.

She said: "Darling, the others will talk about the two of us."

"Let them talk." He put his hands against the wall. "I feel something on the other side. Metal."

"There's got to be a secret opening or something."

"I could just rip the metal out."

"And destroy everything in the process. Let's try the gentler approach first."

Emma knocked on the wall, looking for pressure points. She got a hollow wooden sound back. She transformed her fingernails into razor sharp diamond and cut a line through the wallpaper, revealing a trap wooden door.

She opened it, exposing another layer of metal. It looked like a vault. She put her hands on it and it felt like ice.

Erik said: "My turn."

The metal creaked, but opened. A blast of freezing air hit her. They entered a giant refrigerator. A dim bulb cast its light on rows and rows of blood and plasma.

Emma asked: "Are we dealing with a vampire?"

It sounded crazy to her, but after she had been introduced to the world of mutanthood, many seemingly impossible things became real. She shivered. Erik draped his arm around her shoulder. She could have changed to diamond form and not been affected by the temperature, but she liked the way he felt. It was ironic how a man capable of such violence could also be so comforting.

Erik said: "The children in the camps used to call him 'Nosferatu' because he was always taking our blood samples. Even the other Nazis were afraid of him. Everyone except Shaw."

Emma felt guilty from all the reminders of her ex. The atrocities he had committed seemed so abstract before. Growing close to one of his victims and tracking down his accomplice was starting to hit too close to home for her.

"For what it's worth," she said. "I'm sorry for what he did to you."

He brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. "Then keep helping me track down the last of his kind so these atrocities can never be inflicted on our kind again."

"His kind. Perhaps Dr. Windsor was another mutant like Shaw. It makes more sense than him being a vampire. Vampires are just a Freudian figment of people's imaginations."

Erik chuckled. "This is rather Freudian, like an Oedipal Complex of sorts. Shaw was my symbolic father, I kill him and claim his place, and then I take his love for my own."

"I don't think Shaw loved anyone but himself. Except as a possession. Have you ever been in love?"

It seemed less blunt than asking if he was in love with her in the present.

"Yes. I have been."

The door to the bedroom swung open. Erik's demeanor became colder.

Mystique entered holding a crumpled plane ticket stub in her hand. "I think I know where Windsor is. He's going after Charles."


	10. Chapter 10

**Welcome to the Brotherhood Chapter 10**

**By Cadet Deming**

**I don't own the rights to the X-Men, Marvel and Fox Studios do so please don't sue. I'm sorry for the long wait in updating. Rated T for adult language, adult situations, torture, and violence. Please read and review, it's appreciated.**

**London, England**

Erik stared at the airplane tickets. They both were from London Heathrow Airport to Westchester, New York, for first class tickets that would have arrived yesterday.

"This could just be a coincidence. I'm sure there are other things to see in Westchester. It doesn't necessarily mean that Essex is going after Charles," he rationalized.

Mystique grabbed the tickets back from him. "What if you're wrong? We have to go help him, and we have to go now."

Emma couldn't help but hear Erik's thoughts: "_How dare she question me in public? What if she's right? This is all my fault. I shouldn't have left Charles. I never should have left him there on the beach. He shouldn't have left me, dammit. None of this would be happening if Charles had admitted I was right. I have to be right. I must be right. I have to make things right. I don't know what's right anymore. Stay in control. Stay in control_."

"Don't challenge me Mystique," Eric said.

His voice sounded cold, but weary. Emma saw herself in Erik: trying to be icy but charismatic and in control on the outside, and scrambling for direction on what to do on the inside. She instinctively wrapped her arm around his in support. He stroked her hand in a move laced with desire and solidarity.

Angel fluttered to rest in a dark leather chair. "Why are we still fucking dealing with Charles Xavier? Is he gonna pay us or something? What's in it for us? Wow, this chair is really soft. I wonder what kind of leather it is."

Mystique snarled: "He's still my brother, Angel."

Azazel said: "He was never your blood brother, just adopted. Do you love your pretend brother more than you love the brothers and sisters you have found here?"

Mystique glared at him. "Don't start with me. Don't you out of everyone start with me."

Emma sensed the fury between the red and the blue mutants of lovers about to turn sour.

Angel muttered: "I think our brotherhood is getting a little too incestuous."

Emma tried to pull her arm back from around Erik, but he stopped her.

Mystique spoke: "Brotherhood. We're supposed to be a Brotherhood of all mutants. We're supposed to be taking care of our own. Mutant and Proud!"

Emma felt a cacophony in her head of the feelings of betrayal, and confusion and guilt and rage of the group overwhelming her. Emma stared at the fragmented group she was surrounded by. She was getting tired of the bickering, and the splinters, and the passive-aggression. At least when Emma was part of the original Hellfire Club, they functioned like a well-oiled machine.

Emma separated herself from Erik. "The question remains if one of our own is in danger or not. So let's use our heads. Let's scope out the situation and see if your telepath "brother" even wants our help before we go teleporting halfway around the world."

She picked up a phone. "Who will make the call?"

Emma held it out between Erik and Mystique. Erik grabbed it.

Angel asked; "Can you ask him for money?"

"No!" Mystique and Erik said simultaneously.

"What's the number?" Erik asked.

Mystique recited it, and the metal of the rotary phone rotated to the numbers without Erik even touching it.

"Charles? It's me, Erik."

**Westchester, NY**

"Are you familiar with the theory of the Fox and the Hedgehog," Sinister asked Charles Xavier.

A drop of blood trickled from Xavier's nose. Regan could tell he was trying to psychically fight them off.

Xavier coughed. "Are you asking me about a children's morality tale. Rather hypocritical from what I've sensed of your history."

"If you know my history then you know I just love children. Their blood tastes like freedom."

Sinister's own nose started to drip blood. His was darker than Xavier's. He tried to wipe it away with a finger.

"And what does your blood taste like?"' Charles asked.

"Slavery," Sinister replied. "Yours. Help me with him Regan."

She concentrated on holding their captive's mind in.

Sinister took out a handkerchief. It was covered with rust-red stains of dried blood. Regan wondered if it was a sign he was slipping or losing control.

"As I was saying," her boss blew his nose. "The Fox knows many things. The Hedgehog knows one big thing. See, you're a hedgehog. You do one thing very, very well. You enter people's minds, but that's your only mutant ability. I, on the other hand, collect mutant powers."

"You steal them," Charles sneered.

"I warned you about that big mouth of yours." Sinister waved his hand. "Bite your tongue. Literally."

Xavier's face contorted. His eyes bulged and his cheeks hollowed out. He whimpered, but it was muffled.

He screamed inside of Regan's head: "_Please help me! Stop it_!"

For a moment, she wanted to help him. Then she realized it wasn't her thought, but his attempt to mind-control her. She steeled herself. A sharp pain flooded her skull, and then was gone.

Blood trickled from Xavier's lips.

Sinister put his fingers under Xavier's chin. "So tell me. What does your blood taste like?"

A phone rang out, loudly.

"Let it ring," Sinister ordered.

It chimed again.

"People will…cough…be alarmed if I don't answer it," Xavier mumbled.

Another ring.

Sinister said: "They'd be alarmed if they heard the way you sound now."

Another chime.

Sinister sighed. "This noise is so irritating. I might as well use another mutant gift I collected. Muffle him Regan."

She covered Charles' bloody mouth with her hand.

Sinister picked up the receiver, and in a voice that mimicked Xavier's exactly, answered: "This is Charles Xavier. How may I help you?"

To be continued.

**Author's note: I may have made a mistake on the time differences **


	11. Chapter 11

**Welcome to the Brotherhood Chapter 11**

**By Cadet Deming**

**I don't own the rights to the X-Men, Marvel and Fox Studios do so please don't sue. Rated T for adult language, adult situations, torture, and violence. Thank you so much to the people who read and review.**

**England**

Emma mentally patched herself in so she could better listen to Erik's phone conversation with Charles. Mystique stood on her toes, craning to get closer. The others in the room stood back with skepticism in their crossed arms and furrowed brows.

Emma thought-projected: _"Please be quiet. Don't give anything away."_

Erik thought-responded: "_I'm not bloody stupid Emma_."

Xavier's voice came out of the receiver: "Erik. It's good to hear from you. How can I help you?"

Xavier sounded far away, like an echo of an echo. It was to be expected considering they were calling long-distance, but she didn't like it. She couldn't read minds over phone lines.

Erik frowned and looked directly at Emma.

She heard him think: "_The first time we speak since breaking ties at the Cuban Missile Crisis, and he's this nonchalant to me_?"

Erik said to Xavier: "Actually, I was looking to help you."

Xavier said: "Is this a sales call? Because I'm not interested."

Anger flashed in Erik's eyes, as the metal on the phone began to shake. "Do you even realize who you're talking to? This is Erik Lensherr."

There was a pause of dead air on the phone. Azazel's tail wagged faster in the background. Riptide looked bored. Angel held up a hand-scrawled note with the message: "Let's just leave the fucker alone."

Xavier finally said: "Lensherr. I'm sorry about that. I know so many blokes named "Erik" these days. I just needed to…check my memory a bit. How's your metal-moving power doing these days?"

Erik made a face. He continued to make banal conversation with Xavier, but thought-projected to Emma: "_I think this line is bugged. It sounds like he's setting me up_. _ I think Windsor already has him_."

Mystique gestured to her forehead and Emma's. She mouthed the words: "Patch me in."

Emma noted Mystique was smart enough to be silent, but her impatience was palpable. Mystique thought: "_I think this is a fake. It sounds like me when I'm trying to pretend to be someone else." _

Emma thought-projected to both Erik and Mystique: "_Don't mention Mystique unless he asks for her. On second thought, mention his sister by a completely different name. We'll spot if he's faking it."_

Erik thought: "_Stop this chattering in my head please. I'm trying to not give my suspicions away and I can't bloody hear myself think_."

Emma thought: "_Welcome to my world darling_," and shut her telepathy off.

Erik said to Xavier: "Do you want to speak to your sister…Anya?"

He handed the phone to Mystique and she started chattering away as if nothing was wrong, with sweetness in her voice and no trace of the paranoia and anxiety she had reeked from earlier. Emma felt a grudging respect for her natural acting talents. She lacked the ability to fake feelings herself, so she hid behind a wooden demeanor or her mind-clouding abilities.

Erik's gaze shifted from the phone to Mystique's face. His grim face from earlier softened into a grin. It reminded Emma of the way Shaw had looked at her the first time she had shown him all of her abilities: impressed, calculating, and more than a little bit lustful.

Mystique closed the phone conversation with: "Erik and I will fly out to see you in…"

Erik held up seven of his fingers.

Mystique finished by saying: "One week." She hung up the phone and exchanged a satisfied look with Erik. They beamed at each other, a little too long for Emma's taste.

Emma felt like a bit of a third wheel. A third square wheel, made of stone.

Emma said: "So do we walk into a trap now? Or fly?"

Erik stretched his arms out. "We teleport. Another thing that gave him away as a fake. He didn't recall Azazel can take us anywhere instantly."

Azazel glared at Erik and Mystique. "Yes, of course. I am everyone's favorite taxi-driver to take for granted."

Emma knew from years of working with Azazel that for him to say anything against his designated leader, he had to be very, very angry.

Erik faced him down. "Knights should know their place and not challenge the King. If I were you, I would be more concerned about the day I don't find you useful anymore."

The room got so quiet, even Angel was silent. Azazel's tail swished back and forth more violently.

Emma heard Azazel think: "_Mystique worships him. I know she worships him. He can have any woman he wants, what if he takes her away from me? The first woman who has cared for me since the radiation turned me into this monster. What if he takes her away from me?" _

Emma's own fears of being abandoned by a man again resurfaced. What if Erik took up with Mystique and threw her aside, the same way Shaw had left her for another beautiful mutant? What if he stopped needing her if they did succeed in rescuing the real Xavier, whose powers of telepathy were greater than hers?

She realized she knew nothing of Erik's past romantic relationships. Why was the first female name he suggested Anya?

When she had searched his memories in the past, the most prominent ones were of being tortured and imprisoned by Shaw. Rage and a thirst for vengeance were his primary emotions, not love.

Azazel stood up straighter. "What makes you king? Why should I follow you into what is most likely a trap?"

Erik raised his hands and all of the metal in the room levitated. "Because I am the man who virtually caused World War III singlehandedly. I am the master of magnetism. I am Magneto and I am the last mutant on Earth you want to defy."

Angel muttered: "Man, you're sounding more and more like a comic book villain every day."

Eric flashed his subarctic-cold stare at her and Angel quickly sputtered in apology: "It's groovy though. Please don't point that shit at me."

The metal floated closer to Azazel. Emma saw it included various knives and potentially deadly objects.

She watched if Mystique would come to Azazel's defense, but she stayed motionless and stoic.

Azazel's tail stopped wagging. "I can teleport away, you know."

Erik sneered. "If you do then you admit to everyone that you're a coward. And you are never welcome back. I believe the word is: checkmate."

Azazel stared at Mystique, but she turned away.

He stared at Emma and said: "You promised."

She remembered her pact with him to kill Erik in the other's defense. Everything was happening too quickly and too slowly all at once.

Emma grabbed Erik's arm. "Please stop this posturing, both of you. Azazel didn't mean to challenge you. I'm sure he's tired and frustrated like the rest of us. We're all…well, actually none of us are truly friends here, but everyone here is valuable and useful. Even Angel. Azazel doesn't have to leave and Erik doesn't have to kill anyone. You can both be big, testosterone and radiation-poisoned, mutated adult men about this. No one loses face by letting this go."

Erik and Azazel sneered at each other for a few more agonizing moments, and the metal slowly lowered to the ground.

Erik sniffed: "You're not a coward. Just don't ever pull something like this again. Let's all get some sleep. We'll make our plan in the morning."

Azazel sniffed: "_Da_."

They shook hands. Both of their grips looked tighter than needed. The veins in their forearms both bulged. The smell of hot metal filled her nostrils.

Azazel started to walk out, but made eye contact with Emma. She heard him think to her: "_I know you can hear me. You and I are going to have a little talk when Erik isn't around_."

Riptide walked out with Azazel and said to him: "This is why I never talk. I never talk, I never get into trouble."

The others cleared out, leaving Emma alone with Erik.

He said to her: "Thank you for diffusing that. I swear you must have been a teacher in another life. You have a knack for herding wild groups."

"I do have a Master's Degree in Education."

"Really?"

"I applied for that, and an MBA. The MBA program sent me a polite decline letter that I should apply for a secretarial school, until I found a husband."

Erik sniffed. "Women's choices are rather limited."

"Like wrangler of mutant terrorists?"

"You are good at it. You make an excellent Queen Bee."

He brushed his finger against her clavicle. Emma swallowed. "You know, people aren't chess pieces."

Erik pressed her into the chair Angel had been sitting on. He whispered in her ear: "But they are my dear. Don't you see? Life is just a game of strategy. And you're my White Queen."

"How did you know that was my old code name?"

"People talk. I hear more than you think. What did Azazel mean when he said: 'You promised?'"

Emma tried not to freeze on the outside, but wanted to freeze on the inside. It was difficult on both counts with Erik on top of her.

She tried to sound as level as possible. "Oh that? I…promised I'd put in a good word with you for him. Who exactly is Anya? Why did you pick that name?"

Erik's body stiffened. She felt his heart rate accelerate. "Anya was my daughter. She died as a child because some bigoted humans learned I was a mutant. They stopped me from saving her from a fire."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

They switched places and she laid her head on his chest. She asked: "What is your chess strategy for saving Xavier from Windsor? We're still so fragmented here, I'm afraid we won't have much of a tactical advantage."

"We have one advantage. Windsor doesn't know that we know he has Charles."

**New York**

Regan uncovered Xavier's mouth after Sinister hung up the phone. Her fingers were covered with her captive's blood. She wiped her hand off in disgust.

Xavier coughed weakly.

Sinister stared at him appraisingly. "You don't have a sister named Anya, do you? Erik Lensherr knew I wasn't you. You're going to pay dearly for this."

To be continued.


	12. Chapter 12

**Welcome to the Brotherhood Chapter 12**

**By Cadet Deming**

**I don't own the rights to the X-Men, Marvel and Fox Studios do so please don't sue. Rated T for adult language, adult situations, torture, and violence. Please read and review, it's appreciated.**

**New York**

Sinister asked Xavier: "Who is the weakest of your X-Men?"

Xavier coughed. "This is a trick question."

Sinister said: "Answer it, or I'll rip the name out of your skull."

"Sean Cassidy. We know him as Banshee."

Regan said: "What's with all of these code names: X-Men, Banshee. I'd like a code name too. I want to be called…Lady Mastermind."

Sinister laughed. "Nicknames are supposed to reflect the bearer's personality. There are three words in 'Lady Mastermind' that don't describe you at all. Call yourself whatever you wish, though. It makes no difference to me. What's this Banshee chap's mutation and why do you think he's the weakest?"

"His scream is sonic-level. He's not weak per se. None of my boys are. He's just a little immature, not as athletic as the rest."

Sinister clasped his hands together. "Call him to me. Now."

Xavier put his fingers to his forehead. She sensed him telepathically beckoning to his charge.

Regan asked: "If Banshee's power is sound waves, is this room soundproof?"

She heard Sinister think: "_Bloody hell, why didn't I think of that first_?"

She glanced around the office. The walls were covered in shelf after shelf of books. They were of the thick-spined leather-bound variety, the kind that seemed more like an expensive form of wallpaper designed to impress visitors rather than literature to be read.

The whole place looked like a façade, like an interior designer's fantasy of a headmaster's office. She pulled back a book by "Watson & Crick" and revealed concrete.

Sinister put both of his hands on either side of Xavier's head. "Well? Is it soundproof?"

Xavier muttered: "Everything except for the doorway."

A voice came out clearer than it should have through the bulk of the door: "Professor X? It's Banshee. You rang for me."

Sinister held Xavier in front of him as a shield. He telepathically ordered Regan: "_Make me invisible until he's inside of the room."_

She mentally projected: "_Who'll I hide behind once he's inside_?"

Sinister thought: "_Not my problem."_

Regan frowned, but focused on a cloaking illusion.

Sinister mimicked Xavier's voice again: "Come in and lock the door behind you. I've got something important to discuss with you."

A boy entered. He barely looked old enough to drink. His hair was red but looked muddier on the side of the shadows, and more golden in the light of the lamp. It was longer and shaggier than what would have been acceptable in the 1950's. He had an unnaturally sweet smell to him and his left hand clutched a bag of cookies.

He lips were pouty, and his expression nervous. His thoughts were a stream of: "_He's gonna find out. He's gonna find out. Oh God he knows. Think empty thoughts. Think empty thoughts. Think empty…Oh God my stomach is empty_. _Chocolate Chip Cookies. Oreos_. _The Stay-Puffed Marshmallow Man_"

Banshee asked: "Um, is there a problem Professor?"

He sounded like he was mumbling with marbles in his mouth.

She heard him think: "_He already knows. He already knows. I'm doomed."_

Sinister put his hands on Xavier's forehead. His lips moved, but Xavier spoke in tandem with him. It was like watching a Twilight Zone version of a ventriloquist's act.

Xavier spoke in his own voice, but with Sinister's thoughts: "A problem? Yes. I do have a problem. Actually, you're the one with the problem. Pull up a chair and come closer."

Banshee followed his orders, still clutching the bag of sweets. He swallowed, and his Adam's apple bobbed and jerked.

Sinister stared at the boy's throat like he wanted to rip it open. He truly resembled a vampire out of a campfire tale, hungry and about to feed. Xavier stared in the same place, but his gaze was empty.

Banshee's skin paled. "What do you mean; I'm the one with the problem? I was just hungry, so I went to the kitchen. I need to keep my strength up for training."

Regan first assumed he was afraid of Xavier, the way she was afraid of her own boss, but then she heard Banshee think: "_Please don't send me away. Don't send me away. I've finally found a place where I belong_."

Sinister clasped his hands together again as Xavier mimicked him. "Really, you know there are no secrets here. There's no point in lying to me."

Banshee sputtered: "I really was hungry. Honest. I'm sorry, I, I can stop anytime I want to. I'll quit."

Regan realized what the sickeningly-sweet smell reeking from Banshee's pores was.

Sinister spoke through Xavier: "Marijuana? Really Sean? I suppose it explains your lack of ambition, your laziness. Did you know that out of all my students, you're my least favorite? You're the runt of the litter. The red-haired stepchild in the literal sense. You'll never be a smart as Beast or as powerful as Havok."

Sinister smiled through his monologue, baring his rows of glistening sharp fangs. Each word sliced a cut in Banshee's psyche. Sticks and stones could break people's bones, but words can tear you open from the inside out. Banshee looked crushed, and his thoughts were as devastated as if his own parents had told him he was their least favorite child.

He went for Banshee's jugular: "You're expelled. And I'm warning your parents what they brought in to this world. I'll tell them everything about you. Even the things you're afraid to say out loud."

Banshee started to cry: "Please, just give me another chance. I'll stop smoking the reefer. I'll spend more time in training. I'll study harder. Please don't do this. This isn't even like you. You're supposed to be…nice."

Regan heard him think: "_Professor X is supposed to be nice. This doesn't even sound like him. It's like I'm in a nightmare. I'm having a nightmare_."

Sinister gloated. Triumph and cruelty glowed in his eyes.

Xavier's eyes were a different story from the puppet master controlling him. They trembled. Tears welled up and trickled down his face.

Regan mentally warned her boss about the tears.

Sinister's nose started to bleed again. He had admitted possessing a person's mind and body was the most draining ability he had. He wiped his nose and Xavier mimicked him.

Banshee asked: "Why are you doing this to me?"

Sinister mocked: "I'm doing this because I love you. This hurts me more than it hurts you. Don't you see my own tears of pain? I loooooooooove all mutants sooooooooooo much. I'm doing this for the good of the future of mutant kind. I have to cull the herd."

Sinister crossed his right leg over his left. Xavier followed suit.

She felt Banshee remember Xavier couldn't move his legs at all. She was about to warn her boss when she heard the loudest scream of her life. It was so sharp it felt like a migraine was coming out of her ears.

Regan lost control of her powers and covered her ears. She thought she screamed but her voice was drowned out by Banshee's wail. Glass in the lamp shattered, and darkness covered everything.

The sonic scream ended. Regan's eardrums buzzed. She grabbed for a flashlight she always carried made from plastic, not glass.

She turned it on and pointed its beam. Sinister held Banshee by his throat in one hand, and Xavier in the other.

Sinister said: "Before I kill you Sean Cassidy, I want you to know why. Xavier did believe you were the weakest of all of the X-Men. He wants to help all mutants, but I know better. Evolution works only if the strongest survive. Not every mutant is worthy. It's time for me to start culling the herd."

Regan heard a crack as Sinister broke Banshee's neck.

**To Be Continued.**

**Author's note: I actually don't have anything against Banshee's character**


	13. Chapter 13

**Welcome to the Brotherhood Chapter 13**

**By Cadet Deming**

**I don't own the rights to the X-Men, Marvel and Fox Studios do so please don't sue. Rated T for adult language, adult situations, torture, and violence. Thank you to all who read and review, it's appreciated. Sorry it took so long to update. This chapter was kind of hard to write.**

**New York**

Sinister dropped Banshee to the ground. He didn't perish instantly. Regan was overwhelmed with the flood of images and memories flashing from his dying brain. The birthdays, family, friends, graduations and heartache that made up a human life took only moments to drain out of him.

It took a full minute for all of his brain activity to end. Finally his mind and his voice were silent forever.

Another scream pierced Regan's skull, this time from Xavier. It wasn't as audibly loud as Banshee's death wail, but the psychic despair behind it was greater.

Xavier shouted: "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Somebody help…"

Sinister choked him off with his grip. "Be quiet. Your empathy for the weak disgusts me. Tie him to his wheelchair."

She raced to the desk and searched through a drawer: pens, notes on "Rebuilding Cerebro", CIA files on Moira MacTaggert and William Stryker, a set of keys and duct tape. She pocketed what looked important and started to bind Xavier's wrists to his armrests.

Sinister said: "Please hurry. I can sense the one called Havok coming."

Regan was suspicious. The only times he was ever remotely polite to her was when he was weakened, had an ulterior motive, or both.

She held up the largest key. "I think we need to get out of this office to someplace more strategic. This one says 'Danger Room.'"

Sinister smiled. "Danger Room. I like the sound of that."

He took the keys from her. As his fingers brushed against hers, his skin felt even colder than the metal.

**London**

Emma lay tangled in a knot with Erik in Dr. Windsor's apartment.

"How is it," he asked, pausing to kiss her forehead, "That you and I have to make do with a chair, but the others have all claimed the bedrooms for themselves?"

Emma listened to Azazel and Mystique screaming at each other behind a wall. She wasn't sure, but Azazel seemed to be yelling the Russian equivalent of: "Fuck you, you disloyal whore!"

Emma replied: "Perhaps the others need privacy to work things out amongst themselves."

She heard a thumping, muffled sound.

Emma wanted to read the minds of the mutants behind the door, but was overwhelmed by Erik's thoughts of: "_What if he hurts her? I promised Charles I'd take care of her. Hell, I should be helping Charles tonight instead of stalling_."

Glass shattered violently in Azazel's room.

Erik stood up. "I'm stepping in."

Emma put her hand on his shoulder and said: "Wait."

The thumping got faster and more rhythmic. The sounds switched to the undeniable moans and gasps of "make-up sex."

Emma smirked: "I think you need to leave them alone. You can't control everything. Forget about everyone else and let me help you…stall."

She kissed the back of his neck.

Erik pulled away from her. "That's rich, coming from you. I'm getting rather tired of you not giving me the privacy of my own head. I have responsibilities to other mutants that you don't seem to understand."

"Don't you take it out on me because you're jealous about Mystique. I find it rather insulting for you to sleep with me and think about her. Most men would kill to have a woman like me."

"And most women would kill for a man like me. Until they find out about the whole mutation issue. And the fact that I hate humanity to the point of willingness to commit genocide. It puts a damper on having a relationship with any normal women. And your telepathy is just…it's…it's wonderful, but sometimes it's unnerving."

"If you were honest with me, I wouldn't have to read your mind. Please be honest with me. Are you attracted to her?"

"Yes, I'm attracted to Mystique, but if you've been in my memories you know I haven't done anything about it."

She heard him think but not say out loud one word: "_Yet_."

Emma wondered if he was testing her, seeing if she was still listening in on him. She kept her delivery cold and dry. "Yes, I just love being described as not normal."

"But you're not normal. It's what I've come to love and hate about you."

Emma pondered how he had just told her he loved her for the first time, but also how he hated her. For someone as passionate and intense as Erik, it made sense the two would blur together. She sensed that he was so used to being alone, himself against the world for so long, that he kept his feelings bottled up. It took a mind reader to pry "the real Erik" out.

She guided him back to the chair. "I love and hate you too, darling."

She projected into his brain: "_And I understand you_."

He kissed her, hungry and deep until she was breathless from it. Erik's caresses blended from tender to savage and back again. His hands felt unique: strong from how athletic he was, yet remarkably soft since he didn't have to touch metal to lift it. His scent was slightly metallic, like he had his own natural cologne.

A moan drifted from Mystique's room. Erik hesitated and his gaze drifted to her door.

Emma grabbed his face, cradling his sculpted cheekbones: "I wish you could read my mind. You'd know you're the only one I'm thinking about now. Forget about everyone else for the night and just think about me."

The light in Erik's eyes changed subtly. She wasn't even sure if what she'd ordered him to do was a use of mind control, and she didn't care. Emma was so caught up in trying to feel secure for the night, it never occurred to her how dangerous her actions could be.

**To be continued**


	14. Chapter 14

**Welcome to the Brotherhood Chapter 14**

**By Cadet Deming**

**I don't own the rights to the X-Men, Marvel and Fox Studios do so please don't sue. Rated T for adult language, adult situations, torture, and violence. Thank you so much to all who read and review. Sorry for the long delay.**

**Westminster**

Regan pushed Professor Xavier in his wheelchair through the halls of his mansion. He felt heavier than she expected, possibly because she was growing closer to exhaustion.

The wheels were silent when they glided over carpet, but clanked on the hard floors. Each noise broadcasted their position. She wanted to cloak her group in invisibility, but as she needed a brain to focus her illusions on, by the time they learned of Havok's position it would be too late to hide from him.

The deeper they travelled through the school, the less it looked like an educational institution and the closer it resembled a military base. Wood paneling gave way to concrete and steel fortifications.

"Hurry," Sinister said. "Havok is getting closer and I need to feed."

Xavier said: "I hope you don't feed on what I think you feed on."

Sinister smiled back at him, flashing his fangs. "I never drink…blood, if that's what you mean. That would be disgusting and unsanitary. I eat conventional food. The blood is for research and injections."

Xavier said dryly: "And self-administering blood transfusions is less disgusting and unsanitary, how?"

Sinister waved his hand: "Stop talking."

Regan saw Xavier's lips pinch together in his reflection in a hallway mirror.

In her own reflection she saw blue-black bags under her eyes. Normally she could use her illusions to cover them, but it would be a waste of her abilities and what was left of her energy.

Regan asked Sinister: "What's your plan?

He snarled at her, eyes glowing red: "Silence. Don't distract me."

Regan gripped Xavier's chair tighter in frustration.

Xavier mentally asked her: "_Why do you follow him, when he treats you like rubbish?"_

She cringed. "_Don't use telepathy. He'll hear us_."

She watched Sinister walking in front of them, and overanalyzed every movement he made to see if he could hear them.

Xavier replied: "_His mind is on finding Havok. Tell me Lady Mastermind, why do you follow him when you're so afraid of him_?"

"_He's my boss. I need to make a living somehow_."

"_Money can't buy the abuse you have to go through_."

"_Plenty of people put up with bad bosses for a paycheck_."

Xavier gripped her wrist. Their mental connection intensified.

He warned her: "_Other people's bosses don't have the ability to kill with the wave of a hand_. _You follow him because you're petrified of him_."

She replied: _"It's the old Machiavellian philosophy. If you want people to follow you, it's more secure to be feared than to be loved_."

"_Silly me. I prefer to be respected and liked by my students._ _You could join me, join my X-Men. I'd treat you with far more respect than Sinister ever will."_

She suppressed a laugh. "_Join you, are you joking? So far your X-Men have all been killed, captured, ensnared in one of my illusions, or are about to be any of the above. You're the losing side."_

_ "And what do you think will happen to you once Sinister grows his own ranks and gets control of more mutants? Do you really think the man you're so terrified of will keep you around if he has more powerful followers?"_

His thought-words struck a nerve in her. She watched her boss. His expression was tight and she could sense the edge of his thoughts, all concentrated on finding Alex Summers.

She felt Xavier's mind creeping deeper inside of hers, trickling through her memories. By getting her to concentrate on Sinister, Xavier was able to get a deeper psychic grip on her. 

Xavier mentally murmured_: "This is your chance to leave him. Switch sides. Look around you Regan. I live in luxury. You can too. If you want money, I have more of it. There's nothing he can offer you that I can't."_

"_I'm loyal. Loyalty_," she thought. She wasn't sure if she was arguing with Xavier, herself, or both of them.

_ "Loyalty is something that's earned. He hasn't earned yours."_

Regan struggled againsthow much sense Xavier was making by trying to remember Sinister's promise of immortality.

Xavier asked her: "_Why do you want to live forever, when you hate the life you have now_? _You're like a battered woman in an abusive relationship_. _This man will bring about your death before he makes you immortal. "_

Sinister bellowed, breaking the spell she was under: "Havok is around the corner. Quickly, shroud us in invisibility, but project an image of Xavier inside of the Danger Room!"

Regan jerked out of Xavier's control, vowing to keep her defenses up around him in the future. She wished Sinister would have told her his bloody plan sooner.

Havok came into view. He was tall and blonde, with a cleft in his chin. His expression was steely. There was something off about him that she couldn't quite place, but she had to focus her abilities on invisibility.

His brainwaves felt unusual, like they were giving off patterns like no one else on Earth. No non-mutant human, at least.

Sinister stood in front of the Danger Room door. He spoke with Xavier's voice: "Alex! Oh, Alex, I'm in here. I need help!"

Havok squinted suspiciously at the door. "Professor, why are you in the Danger Room in the dark?"

Banshee had seemed innocent, but there was something cynical about Havok, more worldly. Much more dangerous.

The thought hit Regan that she could drop her invisibility cloaking and expose Sinister to Havok. Havok could probably defeat him if he wasn't being tricked. She didn't know if it was her thought or the real Xavier's.

Sinister mentally commanded her: "_Show Xavier wheeling towards the back_."

She hesitated. Betray Sinister or follow him?

Sinister thought-asked: "_Please hurry, this one's smarter than the last_."

Regan thought: "_An epileptic Chihuahua is smarter than the last_."

She inhaled, put her fingers to her temple, and projected Xavier wheeling off into the darkness of the Danger Room.

**London**

Emma discreetly pulled away from Erik, trying not to wake him. He looked so peaceful when he slept. Being a telepath who could see people's dreams if she was close enough to them, she knew his peace was a façade.

Lying next to Erik all night, she absorbed every nightmare, every memory of his tortured past. His thoughts hadn't bothered her the first time she met him, because she didn't care about him at the time.

Now his unhappiness did bother her. She wanted to fix him, but he was getting so irritated at her mind-reading lately, she thought it best to not let on how deep inside his mind she had been.

Emma walked to the only bathroom. She noticed Europeans seemed to make do with less bathrooms than Americans did.

She locked the door, grateful for some privacy. The Brotherhood was starting to feel like an all-consuming 24-7 club. At least when they were the Hellfire Club, everyone had their own personal space.

She turned on the faucets and adjusted for the right temperature to wake her up without scalding or freezing. The water felt like lifeblood coming back to her. She rubbed her eyes and opened them.

Azazel was standing right behind her in the locked room, stark red against the white of the tiles of the walls. He enveloped her in his arms.

"Emma, my dear comrade. You and I need to have a little chat in real privacy."

He teleported them both away.

**To be continued**


	15. Chapter 15

**Welcome to the Brotherhood Chapter 15**

**By Cadet Deming**

**I don't own the rights to the X-Men, Marvel and Fox Studios do so please don't sue. Rated T for adult language, adult situations, torture, and violence. Please read and review. **

**England**

When Azazel teleported he didn't simply appear with his travelling companions instantly at his destination. There was a dark side to it, an in-between dimension that smelled of sulfur and smoke. He nicknamed it the "Brimstone Dimension."

When Emma teleported with him it only took a few seconds to move through the Brimstone and arrive at his endpoint. She heard things in the background, like rumblings and growling. She sometimes wondered what would happen if he let go of her during that brief time. If he left her to drift off there, in between, possibly forever.

She and Azazel had always been on the same side before, so there was no reason for him to let go of her. She also knew where they were going and had ample warning. But by kidnapping her he had thrown her off guard.

She turned to diamond out of instinct. In her almost panic Emma couldn't decide between trying to throw him off of her, or to hold on for what was left of her life. She heard a rumble in the distance and held on tighter.

The sulfur stench gave way to the moist smell of air conditioning. Smoke faded to bright fluorescent lights. If her eyelids weren't transparent diamonds, she would have blinked.

She screamed: "What the bloody hell are you doing with me!"

Azazel said: "I just wanted some privacy. To speak with you without Erik."

"You could have just asked."

She pulled away from him and took in her surroundings. They were inside a large room with marble floors. The walls were covered with paintings behind velvet ropes. She realized they were in a museum.

Azazel shrugged. "I am better at planning action than planning talking." He gestured to her diamond form: "You do not trust me?"

She turned to flesh, but kept her guard up.

She thought-projected to him: "_If you wanted privacy darling, we could have just had a mental conversation back at Windsor's apartment."_

_ "But here I have advantage," _he thought back.

She looked around the museum. So this is where he came when he disappeared. He was more cultured than she gave him credit for.

She smirked: "_What's inside of your mind_?"

Azazel curled his tail around her arm. She tried not to flinch. "_I am not one for gossip. I do not care much for people's love lives. But I do need to know, do you truly love this Erik, or are you just using him for control?"_

_ "Why do you care? I encouraged you to get close to Mystique without prying."_

Azazelcircled around her. The edge of his tail left a mark on her skin. "I am not stupid. I know you just wanted me to keep Mystique away from your precious Erik."

"You sounded awfully happy with Mystique last night."

"You also sounded very pleased with Erik. Or were you faking?"

"It isn't your bloody business if I fake orgasms."

"That is not what I meant. Well, maybe a little bit. I need to know where your loyalty is. You and I were comrades for years. We built Hellfire Club together. We were going to rule the world, make it safe for all mutants. And now, we are doing what? Rescuing Erik's old friend who should be our enemy, from our old glorious leader's mentor?"

Emma put both her hands on Azazel's face, so she could read him clearest. She felt his yearning to hold onto the past, to follow a strong commander who could tell him what to do, someone he could put blind trust in. He was afraid he couldn't trust her anymore, that she would betray him to Erik.

She questioned her own conflicting loyalties. Azazel had been a staunch ally, and knew her for far longer than Erik did. Her feelings for Erik were new, but strong. Was it infatuation, or was he meant to be "The One?"

Emma said: "My loyalty is to the mutant cause. I won't tell Erik we made a pact to kill him together. It wouldn't be rational."

Azazel sighed. "Loyalty is not rational. Nor is love."

Emma kissed him chastely on his cheek. "You are so right. I promise to keep Erik away from Mystique for you. What is it about Mystique that men go so crazy for?"

"She has ability to look like any woman. Men are not so monogamous. We may try out of respect, but our minds go this way and that. Mystique can be every woman, so I can be with one woman without getting bored."

Emma tossed her hair. "So, you like her because you can commit without having to commit. Is that all?"

"She likes me for me. She looks at me and does not seem to see a devil inside."

"Azazel darling, I've been in your mind." She whispered in his ear: "You are a devil."

"Perhaps she sees the devil and does not care."

"Or she likes it. I've never bothered to scan her mind that deeply."

Azazel's tail crept up Emma's thigh: "Do you like it?"

She didn't want to read his thoughts, as she knew where they were headed.

In an icy tone, she said: "I think it's best we travelled back now."

Azazel sneered, but complied. The museum disappeared in a flash.

**Westchester**

Regan put all of her energy into getting Havok to walk through the door to the Danger Room. He just stood in front of the entrance.

Havok asked: "Professor X, is this some kind of a test?"

She made her projection of Xavier wheel around and face Havok: "No test. Please come and help me."

"Help you with what?"

"With…with…." Regan trailed off and stared at Sinister.

"Oh hell with it," Sinister sighed and flicked his arms.

Alex flew forward into the Danger Room, and the door slammed shut behind him.

Sinister said: "Must I do everything myself."

A growling rumble came from the door. She heard a muffled explosion. Sinister put his hand on the metal doorway.

He purred: "So much power. And it's all mine now."

**To be continued**


	16. Chapter 16

**Welcome to the Brotherhood Chapter 16**

**By Cadet Deming**

**I don't own the rights to the X-Men, Marvel and Fox Studios do so please don't sue. Rated T for adult language, adult situations, torture, and violence. Thank you to all who read and review.**

**Westchester**

Havok banged on the door to the Danger Room. The clanking sounded feverish and panicked, but strong.

The intercom buzzed as Havok threatened: "Whoever locked me in here has five Goddamn seconds to let me out again or you'll be sorry."

Sinister pressed the button on his side of the intercom and replied: "My name is Mister Sinister. I'm a sociopath dear boy. I'm not capable of feeling sorry for anything."

"Don't call me 'Dear Boy.' What the hell kind of a name is Mister Sinister? You sound like a pro wrestler."

Sinister chuckled with more than a trace of condescension: "My ex-wife named me with her dying breath, but that's another story. It would be best for you to show me some respect. Your explosive power is useless behind a bomb proof door."

The banging stopped.

Havok asked: "What do you want? And where is Professor X? The real one and not some trick projection."

Sinister snapped his fingers at Xavier, allowing him to speak. "I'm right here Alex. Don't let your guard down. Sinister and his henchwoman are both mindreaders."

Regan heard Havok think: "_Can you hear me now, asshole_?"

Sinister thought back: "_The human body can survive without water for 3-5 days in normal temperatures, 8 weeks without food, and four minutes without oxygen. Which of those will be most painful for you if I leave you in here indefinitely_?"

The Danger Room was audibly and mentally silent.

Sinister caressed the metal of the door as he spoke: "Solitary confinement isn't sounding so good to you now, is it? I know your mind, boy. You've been terrified of being around other people, afraid you'll lose control of your powers. Xavier here has been feeding you his New Age mutants and homo sapiens living together in harmony rubbish. He's teaching you to reign your power in. I can teach you to let your power out, make you stronger. With me at your side, I can help you reach your greatest potential. The Danger Room itself couldn't hold you back with me behind you."

Regan heard Xavier's heart beating faster, but no other sound.

Finally, Havok replied: "How stupid do you think I am? You lock me up and offer to help me? I call bullshit."

Sinister said: "Stupid, yes. Everyone thinks you're stupid. Everyone thinks you're a dumb jock. Even Xavier."

Xavier sputtered: "He's lying Alex. Don't let him manipulate you."

Xavier's thoughts were a jumble of guilt over his failure to protect Banshee and protectiveness. He was desperate for things to turn out differently this time.

Sinister waved his hand and Xavier rocketed into a wall. Xavier groaned, but Regan could hear the scream inside his mind. He was holding back the pain he felt, trying to be strong.

The door rumbled, louder than before. Regan was reminded of the feel before an earthquake was about to tear the Earth apart.

Background noise clicked from the intercom. Havok's voice sounded deeper. "Are you going to kill me?"

Xavier smiled. She could sense his pride of teacher to student.

Sinister said: "I don't want you dead. Yet. Although I can always change my mind, depending on your level of cooperation. You don't like to cooperate with authority, do you Mr. Summers?"

Havok said: "Save the mind games and get to your point."

Sinister clucked his tongue. "Impatient, aren't you?"

"No. You're just boring me."

The light in Sinister's eyes turned a crimson, glowing red. Regan felt the ground beneath her feet tremble.

She tried to suppress a smile. To someone as melodramatic and egotistical as her boss, boring was one of the biggest insults possible.

Sinister sneered: "You impudent, scrawny little child. I don't exist to entertain you. Your life depends on how you can serve me. You're just a vessel, just raw material."

Havok asked: "Material for what?"

"For evolution. Humanity used to have survival of the fittest, where only the strongest survived. But now with advances in medicine and life expectancy, weaklings are surviving and passing on inferior genes. I have to ensure that the greatest mutations can thrive and multiply to counteract this. It's too important to be left to chance, it needs to be guided by my genius."

Havok said: "Thanks, but I think I can get laid without your help."

Regan laughed, until Sinister shot her a: "Don't you dare" look.

Xavier said: "I have as unhealthy a fascination with genetics as you do, but you're taking things too far. My students are not brood mares for you to experiment with or treat like livestock."

Havok said, "I've always thought of myself as more of a stallion."

Sinister said: "Stop talking or I'll turn you into a gelding."

Havok asked: "What the hell is a gelding?"

"It's a stallion that's had its testicles removed."

"That's gross. If you take away my balls, how the hell are you supposed to mate me to create the perfect mutant?"

"I said I needed your genetic material. I never said I needed you in one piece."

The area fell silent. It was too silent, like waves retreating from a beach before exploding back into a Tsunami.

An explosion rocketed from behind the Danger Room door. It creaked out on its hinges, but didn't break down. Surges of heat blew past Regan.

Havok screamed: "Let me out of here now!"

**To be continued**


	17. Chapter 17

**Welcome to the Brotherhood Chapter 17**

**By Cadet Deming**

**I don't own the rights to the X-Men, Marvel and Fox Studios do so please don't sue. Rated T for adult language, adult situations, torture, and violence. Thank you to all who read and review. I'm sorry for the long delay, I had a combination of writer's block and my internet service was broken.**

**Westchester**

The door to the Danger Room buckled outwards as Havok created explosion after explosion. A blast of furnace-like heat surrounded them.

Sinister clapped: "Excellent! I believe you're registering on the Richter scale!"

He waved his hands in the air like a conductor leading a symphony. His fingers sliced through the air in time to each crescendo of sound.

Dust fell on Reagan's head as the ceiling above them creaked. Cracks corrupted the concrete in growing patterns. She wondered how secure the area was. Basements were a primal fear for many people, and with good reason.

Regan thought-projected to Sinister: "_Is this safe_?"

Sinister thought: "_Who cares? I'm immortal_!"

Xavier thought: "_Did I leave a fire extinguisher in there? Please tell me I left a fire extinguisher in the Danger Room. This is all my fault. I should have prepared them better. I thought Alex had potential for strategy, but he's letting himself be baited. What will I tell Alex's parents if this doesn't end well_? _Do I have home insurance_? "

Sinister called to Havok: "Hurry up boy, I'm getting…bored."

Xavier muttered: "Can't you watch sports like a normal person for entertainment?"

Sinister said: "Normalcy is the refuge of the mediocre. If your protégé can't free himself of your glorified gym, I'm going to start beating on you again, and I'll leave the intercom on so he can hear every single scream. Do you want your students to know you squeal like a woman?"

Xavier said: "If I have to listen to your pretentious, hammy, melodrama I think I'll scream anyhow. Or are you going to wave your hand again and order me to stop talking?"

"I'll order you to do more than that you balding, poncy, crippled little…You're trying to distract me."

Regan heard Xavier think: "_The hinges Alex. Go for the hinges_."

The speed of light and the speed of sound converged as the corridor flooded with a red light and the sounds of the Danger Room door finally shattering open. Regan leapt to avoid the chunks of falling metal.

Havok stood in the doorway, panting. "Have I entertained you enough, asshole? Let…the…professor…go. Now."

Sinister stood behind Xavier. "No. Come closer and he dies. You can't use your power against me without hitting him."

Havok looked at Regan: "I can hit her though."

"Go ahead. She means nothing to me."

Regan supressed her anger towards Sinister and made herself invisible to Havok. His mind felt easy to enter, like he had been sucked dry from the inside out. His posture had gone from captain of the football team to hunched-over wallflower. Trails of dried sweat covered the sides of his face and neck, or were they tears?

"Forget about me and save yourself Alex," Xavier said.

Alex's eyes darted between the professor and the corridor leading to escape. A fluorescent light bulb flicked on and off, rhythmically. The heat in the hallway had evaporated and been replaced with a chill. It wasn't a moist chill like the ones usually found in the depths of a cellar, but dry, as if the explosions from Havok's mutation had burned all the life-giving water away.

Sinister took a step forwards, holding Xavier in front like a shield made of flesh. Despairing, pained flesh and bone. The ropes Regan had used to tie him to his wheelchair hung from his wrists like the strings of a puppet.

Sinister said: "Where would you go if you left the Mansion? Back to prison?"

Havok took his own step forward. "You're right. I'm not leaving. I can hit you without hitting him."

"Now you can't. You can't control it. In fact I don't think there's anything left to control. You used all your energy getting out of the Danger Room, and there's nothing left. You're all used up."

Alex took another step forward. "I'm not bluffing."

"I'm not either. Surrender and I'll let you both live."

"X-Men never surrender."

"You're referring to your team in the third person? And Xavier said I'm pretentious. I call your bluff. Hit us with your best chest-beam-plasma-radioactive-whatever-it-is you do."

Alex coughed: "I will…I can…I…I."

A pink light glowed around his chest, and then fizzled out. He collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Xavier said: "If you killed him, you monster…"

Regan kicked Alex over and felt for a mind-reading and vital signs. His panting had been replaced by shallow breaths. His chest rose and fell. "He's not dead. Just unconscious."

Sinister knelt and turned the boy's face. His skin, once bronzed and healthy-looking, was now as white as Sinister's.

"So strong," Sinister whispered. "I think this one is my new favorite."

Regan muttered: "Well, since apparently I mean nothing to you."

Sinister said: "I knew you could take care of yourself. I was bluffing darling."

Xavier said: "No you weren't."

Sinister snarled and waved his hand at Xavier. The captive flew into a wall. He groaned.

The ceiling above them creaked where Xavier had hit. More plaster fell around them.

Sinister ordered: "Let's get out of here before I'm buried alive. I have an idea on how to make sure Havok won't be a problem anymore when he wakes up."

**To be continued. **


End file.
